


You’ll Never Walk Alone

by england_is_mine



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Third Person, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, football au, it's not all about football tbf it's a metaphor mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/england_is_mine/pseuds/england_is_mine
Summary: When new footballer Alex meets the charismatic and experienced Miles Kane, he begins to think he can’t keep his love a secret forever.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 20
Kudos: 105





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, my first proper story! I hope you find this good ‘cause I’ve been slaving over it and I genuinely can’t tell if it is anymore. Also Happy 34th Birthday Alex amirite? I’m not sure what he’d make of this present, though...
> 
> I imagined Humbug Alex and Miles quite recently when his hair was blond at the top but his roots and sides were dark, but obviously envision it as you will :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and enjoy the filth, find me on Tumblr @england-is-mine :)
> 
> This is a work of fiction. Although resemblance to real people is implied, any actions they depict are not real. Their privacy must be respected at all times.

Alex had always liked football. From the youngest age- he remembers the air in his lungs and the thrill of the goal as people would cheer and scream. Therefore it was no surprise when came 18, he was asked formally to join the team for good with a killer salary that required only his mere talent of the kick of a ball. 

Alex, however, had always liked boys. 

“Hey, look.” His manager had told the slim, slightly feminine, long-haired boy opposite him in the red LFC embroidered chair in his office, surrounded by trophies and memorabilia. “This is a big opportunity. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that no, you can’t be gay, that you can’t come out. I just want you to know that you have to have thick skin to put up with it if you do. They will call you names, they will ask about your love life.” He informs Alex before a long pause. “On the plus side, things are getting better these days. You’ll also be the second ever openly gay player in this league. You’ll be a hero.”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Alex all but whispers, legs crossed tightly in his chair. The thought of the publicity makes his head spin. But then again, why say yes to a job in the public eye?

“Well then don’t come out,” his manager says, like it’s the simplest dilemma in the world. Alex glances out of the office, towards the pitch, which is an alarming shade of green. The floodlights blare, and he tries to imagine the camera flashes in his face, how the team would treat him in the locker room if they knew. He tries to imagine being part of that team, bringing joy to fans. He tries to imagine the salary, all the good he could do for his parents with it. 

“Okay,” he says, bringing his arm to the desk to sign his contract with the stroke of a pen. 

“Perfect. You’ll start training on Monday.” 

*

_2 years later_

Alex’s talent didn’t go unmissed, which gained him a promotion to the A team- the big guns. Front page news, and all that. Some big, millionaire stars- Alex’s heroes. As it turns out, the guys aren’t as bad as he anticipated, all extremely friendly and welcoming. There’s an overwhelming sense of community which makes Alex feel at ease. There are some contrasting personalities, for sure, but he’s not had a single fight as of yet, and he’s settled in quite nicely. Most people are just caught up in their own lives, Alex figures, and not bothered about you. God knows how that would change if they knew. 

The one thing he can’t get the hang of is media training. Most of the guys finished theirs in the first six months, and here Alex was still saying the wrong things, or taking too long to reply to the point of exhaustion on behalf of the interviewer. He remembers his debut as the best moment of his life. He even got a goal in his first moments, and cried his heart out when the fans cheered. It turns out it’s easy to forget about everything when you’re playing the game, because that’s what it’s all about. Team spirit, goals, and the fans, and nothing else. The secret goes away. 

At least it went away until they were introduced to Miles Kane, in the dressing room before training on a particularly glum and chilly Tuesday morning. He’d known about Miles, they’d all known that he was coming. Bought from another club for 42 million, so he was worth it alright. Alex wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

“Okay everyone,” their manager begins, and Alex looks up from finishing tying his shoelaces. “Everyone come and welcome our newest asset, Miles.” The man practically beams, proudly showing off his newest spending, and Miles is quick to shake everyone’s hands and start chatting. It’s no denying that Miles is clean and masculine, Alex thinks, with a fresh haircut and vibrant energy about him. Alex waits until last, bringing his red underlayer past his knuckles in an attempt to keep him warm. 

“Alex,” he offers his hand, which Miles enthusiastically accepts.

“Nice to meet ya, man.” Miles adds. 

“I didn’t know you were Scouse,” Alex confesses. 

“Hm well, here I am I guess. Feelin’ right at home,” he smiles. Alex notices how when he smiles his eyes crinkle at the sides, and how his eyes are brownish hazel. They find themselves in an awkward situation by which, because Alex was the last to greet him, everyone else has gone back to getting changed. After a moment’s awkward silence, Alex takes the lead.

“Uh, I’ll show ya to yer locker,” he guides him to a locker with four bold black letters that spell Miles’ last name above it. “So urm, all ya stuff goes here… showers over there… and trainin’ starts at 9 every mornin…” Alex tries his best to explain, admittedly feeling just as defeated and intimidated as he did on his first day. He’s got on so well with everyone so far.

“Fanks,” Miles smirks, and Alex knows that he knows everything already. He’s been briefed, interviewed and signing away for weeks now, and Alex scolds himself for it. He lingers for a little too long, trying to take the new man in. 

“Where’s that accent from?” Miles asks.

“Sh,” Alex begins and stops when Miles so unexpectedly takes his shirt off in front of him, and for a millisecond Alex is shocked, but it is a changing room, after all. It takes all of his might to not look anywhere but Miles’ eyes when he talks. “Sheffield.” He gets out. Miles gives nothing but a nod of acknowledgement, and Alex tells Miles he’ll leave him to it to get changed. He silently berates himself for his own awkwardness, over thinking and second-guessing himself for the rest of the day. 

*

They don’t talk much after that. It doesn’t stop them exchanging short millisecond glances, brief smiles during the showering of attention that the new guy gets- the others are all over him, making jokes, laughing with him as they train over the next few weeks. Alex wonders if he’s perhaps missed the memo, that maybe Miles is a bigger deal than he thinks. He does some digging around on Google, finding only his statistics and past achievements, where he comes from, and some photos. The newspapers seem to like him, and give glowing reports. Alex shrugs. 

They all go out for drinks, and Alex is thankful that it’s only a rarity these days with new fitness policies. He doesn’t much enjoy it and leaves early, if early is 1AM, because everyone is off their heads drunk while he watches on, filled with boredom. He realises one morning as he takes a break while the others train, that he knows nothing about the man, that he’s too socially inept to ask, and the others probably know his life story. _Social media,_ Alex scoffs to himself. 

Alex’s legs are crossed on the bench and he’s clutching his water bottle in some poor effort to keep warm, when Miles jogs over, panting and sweating from a warm up. 

“Hiya,” he begins, sitting himself next to Alex and rummaging for his water bottle. 

“Hi,” Alex greets him. 

“Everything alright? You’re looking glum,” Miles comments. 

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed,” he smiles bashfully, and there’s a pause as they watch the lads exercise and birds chirp distantly. 

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t ya?” Miles eventually replies.

“Hm,” Alex smiles. “I guess I am. It’s a curse sometimes,” he assumes it sounds sadder in Miles’ head, because he can feel him frowning at him. After a moment, he speaks again. 

“Well don’t be afraid, mate. I’m not gonna bite. I know it’s weird, me comin’ in here and takin’ up all the attention, but… ” he trails off. “I’ll give ya me number later if you want.” Miles prepositions. 

“Oh, thank you,” Alex turns to him and smiles genuinely, pleased with Miles’ attempt to get to know him better.

“No problem. I hear you’re into y’ music?” Miles grins, redoing his shoelaces. 

“I am, who told you that?” Alex beams.

“Trent, he,”

“MILES!” His coach calls. “COME ON!” 

“Damn. We’ll chat more later.” He stands up. “We should go for a drink.” He proposes, to which Alex raises his eyebrows and nods enthusiastically. “Well nice chattin, I’ll see ya round.” He leaves and raises his fist to Alex’s. 

“See ya,” Alex smiles, but Miles his already half-gone.

*

Over the next month, Alex learns numerous things about Miles.

  1. He’s 24 years old.
  2. He’s single, and a people-pleaser.
  3. He plays the guitar like Alex and is practically in love with John Lennon.
  4. He’s hilarious and always has Alex in stitches.
  5. He’s very quick to anger and assert his dominance.



It was a late game, an 8pm kick off. A very important one against their main rivals. Alex was grateful to be a substitute without the pressure, but was also trying to sit on the bench without freezing to death. He always found his eyes drifting to Miles in these situations, and tonight was no different. No different, except for when he witnessed Miles get tripped over in the 70th minute when they were drawing 1-1. It was a nasty tackle, and Alex’s eyebrows furrowed when Miles landed directly on his head. It was safe to say that Miles wasn’t having the best of nights. Despite his best efforts, he’d been off form all game, missing passes and giving away important opportunities. Alex could see the frustration building. 

However bad he was hurt, it couldn’t have been awful, because Miles was on his feet in record time pushing the man who tripped him. Alex’s eyes widened. People came rushing to part them, but Miles, who was a few inches taller, had his forehead pushed right up against this man’s, shouting in his face, a pointing finger in his chest. Alex gulped, and all of a sudden started to feel a lot warmer, in places he shouldn’t. The moment was over in an instant, the man with a yellow card and Miles with anger in his eyes was being pulled away. But the feeling remained. Alex’s mind flashed to inappropriate thoughts, and he violently shook his head and got up to warm up instead of watching. 

The minutes droned on like hours, as Alex side-stepped back and forth with a purple bib on next to the fans, a dazed and thoughtful look on his face. 

“Alex!” His coach called. He spun around, nearly bumping into the player warming-up behind him. “You’re up!” He waves Alex over, but Alex is confused. He’s never been called up for a game of this magnitude before, and wonders why he’s been chosen over the much better players. “Come on, time’s-a-tickin!” He points to his watch, and Alex has no choice but to rush getting his jacket and joggers off to the white away kit underneath as his coach explains the tactics for the remaining tense ten minutes. To his dismay, he’s replacing Miles’ closest wingman, meaning he has to stay with him at all times. “Basically, if you’ve got the ball, pass it to him, and if you haven’t got the ball, get it to him.” Alex is told. Fantastic.

 _This cannot end well_ , is all Alex can think, as he’s standing on the edge of the pitch next to the man who then raises his number in green and his teammate’s number in red. Alex and his colleague high-five, and then he’s on. _Okay, you got this._ He thinks to himself as he rushes to where the action is happening, near the opposing team’s goal. _Come on._

It takes a while, but he eventually finds himself in a crucial moment with the ball in the last moments of the game. If he screws this up, it’s all over. 

He can see Miles. Miles, who is waving to him like a maniac, is quite a ways opposite him near the goal. There’s several defenders in between them and in front of Miles, so Alex figures the move is pointless. Miles doesn’t seem to think so. 

Alex, however, has a clear shot on the goal, so goes for it. It wavers past the bodies at a lightening speed, and finds itself slip past the fingertips of the unexpecting goalie to the back of the net. Alex can’t believe it, and brings his hands to cover his mouth in shock. He’s standing a huge 25 yards away. The entire world slows down, as a sea of white overwhelms him, jumping on his back and hugging him, ruffling his hair that he forgot to tie back. He hears the fans who are roaring in delight, and then the final whistle blows. He tears up, frozen, but the tears are short lived as the white sea departs so his view is cleared. His eyes flick over to Miles, who is glaring at him with detest.

*

He doesn’t have long to think about it, as his manager rushes to embrace him and mutter kind words into his ear with an arm flung around his shoulders. Alex finds himself giggling like a schoolgirl as the players all compliment him. The cameras soon follow, and Alex is made to describe the moment in great detail multiple times, repeating how grateful he is and how happy he feels. By the time all the interviews are finished, the game’s been finished half an hour and everyone’s waiting for him. 

“C’mere, lad.” His manager turns to him once again, arm on his shoulders. “I knew you had it in you,” he says, and Alex figures it’s a lie, and that actually he was put on as a last minute hope for a miracle. “I’m so proud. Now you go to freshen up and get changed. The rest of us are on the bus, but don’t rush. Well done. Off you go,” he pats him on the back, and Alex is off to the empty changing room to come down from his high. 

As soon as he pushes the door open, his smile is wiped off of his face when Miles is there, zipping his jacket up, and he’s reminded of and met with that sour look. You wouldn’t have thought they’d won the game- Miles’ face was more reminiscent of the fans that were so heavily disappointed.

“Oh,” he begins. “Great,” he folds his arms. All Alex can think of is how he’s ruined things already, and all of a sudden feels incredibly tense, and darts his eyes around the room for another person. Noone. 

“What’s up?” Alex asks, knowing the answer. Miles’ ego can’t handle Alex scoring a goal in a few minutes that he was pining for all night. 

“What’s up? Fink you know what’s up,” he steps closer to him. 

“Miles please I dunt wanna fight,” Alex rushes the words in a whisper, raising his hands up slightly in fear, taking a step back. 

“Oh yeh? An’ what if I do, huh? What’s a little boy like you gonna do about it?” It’s a matter of milliseconds before he’s pressed up against the door, Miles having pushed him violently. Then, their foreheads are pressed together, not dissimilar to Miles’ arrangement with the other man before. “Are ya gonna push me, Alex? Or are ya just gonna stand there?” The tone of Miles’ voice and the hotness of his breath on Alex’s cheeks get him all hot and bothered again. Alex’s eyes are closed, and he’s praying to every God there is to not get hard whilst Miles is this close to beating him up. 

He can’t think, let alone speak. So he does the only thing he’s capable of doing, which is giving Miles subconscious puppy dog eyes whilst chewing on his bottom lip. Eventually, the words come. “Please, Miles,” he whimpers, willing Miles to become hypnotised. 

“Ooh, don’t give me that,” he squints, but Alex notices his face softens at the plea. He realises how weirdly sexual the whole thing has become, but before he even has time to register the situation, Miles is gripping his jaw and a soft moan escapes him. “Huh. Look like yer enjoyin’ yerself a bit too much there, laa,” Miles grins. “Do ya like it when men get angry wif ya? Maybe I should try somethin’ else…” he practically purrs, turning Alex’s head away from him roughly so he can bite at his neck. When he gasps, out of mainly shock, and lets him, Miles takes it as consent. 

“Turn around,” he commands, and Alex is quick to press his face against the door. He soon feels Miles gather his hair into his fist and pull hard, so that Miles’ mouth is next to his ear. “Do you have any clue how mad I am? That you took my goal away? Cause am about to show yeh,” he releases Alex’s head but moves to his shorts, and pulls them down in a swift movement to reveal bare skin. He spanks him, hard. Alex ends up losing count of how many times, but from the feel of it he’s red raw and has Miles’ palm practically tattooed on his arse. He cries out in the mixture of pleasure and pain, hands flat against the door, and can’t believe what’s happening and how quick he is to become so turned on. “Hope yer not likin’ that too much,” Miles stands up straight, giving a few more slaps. Alex sighs, desperate for more contact, and pushes his raging hard on into the door. “Ah ah, none of that.” Miles notices and grips Alex away forcefully by the waist, and shoves him to his knees on the floor. Alex takes the hint, and is confronted for the first time by the hugeness of Miles, even through his tracksuit. He gawks for a moment before taking him out, dying to taste him. He wraps his lips around Miles, and it isn’t long before Miles is bucking his hips forward to fuck his throat, a hand gripping his long hair harshly. “Look at me, baby.” Miles growls, making obscene groans as he’s inside Alex’s swollen mouth. Alex complies, moaning at the pet name, his brown eyes staring up at him. “Hmmm,” Miles moans, having too much fun with it all as Alex is aching. He’s soon at a stage where he’s gagging on Miles, eyes watering, at which point it is decided that Alex has had enough. “Wall,” Miles commands, and Alex rushes embarrassingly quick back up to stand against it. “Shirt off,” he demands, and Alex complies, discarding it to the floor. He realises then, that cleverly Miles is still fully clothed apart from the obvious, aiming to create a power imbalance even through layers of fabric. “Look at yeh. Fuckin’ fifthy whore, you are. Standin’ there ready for me to fuck yeh, wif ye long hair and a body like tha,’” Miles comments. 

“Miles, please,” Alex begs. 

“Don’t worry darlin,’ i’ll get there.” He grins and moves towards him. He pulls his hips backwards so he still has his hands flat against the wall, but is nowhere near close enough to rub against it. He gives a couple more spanks before grinding against Alex’s entrance for a good couple of minutes just to antagonise him further. By this stage, Alex is practically on the verge of tears for the second time tonight but for an entirely different reason. He’s whimpering, moaning and writhing against Miles, pushing back into him desperately. “Stay still,” Miles hisses, giving a spank to his thigh. 

“Please, Miles!” Alex cries out, just as he’s starting to lose hope. Miles stills for a moment, before pushing into Alex entirely in one swift movement, beginning to pound hard. Alex chokes out a sob, grateful for it. Miles goes for Alex’s hair as support, gathering it again into a pony and pulling hard, as he fucks him harder and harder by the second. The slapping noise fills the room, and Alex tries his hardest not to scream too loud in case is raises suspicion. 

“Mmm, so good for me, aren’t ya?” Miles praises. “Answer me, baby.” He demands, to which Alex nods frantically and chokes out a _‘yeah_.’ 

“Been waitin’ for this for a while now…” he confesses, and the thought makes Alex groan. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he adds, dragging his nails down Alex’s back which makes him hiss. He takes a hold on his hips, digging in little crescent moons with his fingernails. The added grip guides Alex perfectly, who is soon whining at the constant pressure in just the right spot. He realises he’s never felt anything on this scale before, never felt this good. His legs are shaking, and he is soon overwhelmed with the need to come. He’s swollen and leaking between his legs, twitching for release. 

“C- can I- ple,” he stutters, but Miles understands.

“Go on, baby. Come for me.” He allows, and Alex groans in relief. It doesn’t take more than a few tugs for Alex to get what he needs, white spurts covering the door and floor, the feeling amazing as he rides it out, filling the room with moans. 

Miles isn’t far behind, the sight overwhelming him. At first he wasn’t going to let Alex come, just for his behaviour earlier, but the need to see it, along with Alex’s constant compliance which has made him soft, makes him cave in. Boy, he’s glad he did, because soon he’s filling him up harder than ever with a loud groan of satisfaction. 

*

They stay there for a while. The realisation of what they just did sinks in, and the dynamic in the relationship has changed in what feels like an instant, the second that Miles drew his tongue against Alex’s neck. They stand panting until they come down from the clouds. 

“Mm,” Alex hums in satisfaction, and Miles chuckles before turning him round. Alex soon feels Miles drip down his thighs as he pulls out, and Miles’ hands are now on his hips as he’s facing him.

“God, yer gorgeous.” Miles comments, still fully clothed. He brings a hand to tuck Alex’s hair behind his ear, a hand lingering on his neck. Alex only blushes as a response. “That was amazing,”

“Mmhm,” Alex nods to agree. “Definiteh,” 

“Now you’ve _got_ to let me take yeh out for a drink,” he smirks, and Alex laughs. 

“C’mon. We’re gonna be late.” Alex parts from him and wanders to the shower, fully naked, almost shivering, scratch marks down his back. Miles admires his work. “Joining meh?” 

“Nah, I’ll get on the bus love,” Miles says, making sure to get himself together before cleaning the poor wall. Alex notes the pet name- the word never would have escaped Miles’ lips had they not shared their bodies with each other tonight. 

When Miles leaves, Alex can’t help but wonder under hot water if this is the start of something new. He can’t help but notice that Miles seems particularly interested- _you’ve got to let me take you out for a drink_ plays over and over in his head, and he smiles to himself as the droplets caress his skin. 

He starts to hope that one day, Miles will caress him so tenderly too. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of something new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ya’ll! I hope you like this- sped wrote it tonight because I’ve got no homework and I’ve abandoned this! So welcome back! The last line is taken from Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale because originality who amirite. My summary is shit, just read it and see, lol. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @england-is-mine! :)

When he is met with cheers and chants as he returns to the coach, his hair fluffy and a warm feeling encompassing him, Alex gushes and his face turns red at the sudden attention. The lighting is ambient red, and as he makes his way down the bus he sees Miles halfway down on his own. 

“May I?” He asks, almost unsure if his status has been upgraded now. 

“Of course,” Miles grins, taking his headphones out. “Pleased wif yerself?” 

Alex shoots him a confused look. “Tonight. The goal,”

“OH, yeah, verreh. I’ve got about 100 miscalls from me mum,” he smirks, embarrassed. Miles chuckles. “You’re not really mad, are y?”

“Oh, no. Well, I was, for some reason. It’s not your fault. Am just embarrassed,” Miles admits solemnly. Alex turns to face him properly, showing his support.

“Ay, it’s alreyt, y’know. You can’t be perfect all the time, Miles. No one is.” Miles simply nods, not carrying it on. “An I know there’s cameras and stuff but… you can’t fink like that. Y’ just can’t,” Alex sympathises which gains another nod, and he knows to leave it. 

Alex spends some time replying to texts, making phone calls. Admittedly, it takes him a while to type whereas he swears some of the guys here- that their thumbs move at a lightening speed compared to his. 

The drive is a long one, about five hours. Miles says next to nothing, watching the dark world go by as they pass service stations and lonely roads, the faint sound of The Beatles pouring out of his headphones. Eventually, Alex speaks. 

“Do your parents know,” he asks quietly- it’s more of a statement than a question. 

“Know what,” Miles whispers in the same tone, and Lennon’s voice comes to a halt. 

“That you’re- you know,” Alex breathes- not wanting to say such a forbidden word.

“I’m not,” he says, and Alex sits up straight, confused. “I go both ways, if y’ get me,” 

“Oh,” Alex nods. 

“But they don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never been that serious with a- well, you know. So they never had to know.” Alex nods, acknowledging the sudden serious turn they’ve taken. “And you?”

“I think they’ve guessed,” Alex begins. “I’ve never said it, and I don’t think I want to. But I get the feeling they know, because they stopped asking about girls,” he ponders, and it’s Miles’ turn to nod. They then share a glance, a terrifying one at that. In their eyes tell all the words they need-  _ we can never tell anyone about this, ever.  _ They look away, a newfound respect and understanding for one another- albeit a scary one. Despite this fact, Miles ends up allowing Alex to sleep on his shoulder, as he figures the risk isn’t so high being at the back of the coach, and the gesture an innocent one. He fears he has fallen- that this is only the beginning- and they will have to battle to hide themselves from the world.

*

Miles’ words begin to echo in Alex’s head when he starts avoiding him at work.  _ I’ve never been that serious with a- well, you know.  _ With a man.  _ Why have me, when he could hold out for a girl- a normal life?  _ He begins to wonder as things sink back to the way they always were- his teammates’ endless affection for Miles, Alex on the sideline, back to being ignored. Except this time, he minds. 

_ Fuck, what is wrong with you? Sleep with a guy once, and now you’re catching feelings? He doesn’t even want you like that- a quick fuck is all he wanted, and he’s got it now. And now it’s awkward. _

The thoughts bounce around every time Miles shoots a blank glance at him- which is happening more often than not. His face is always one filled with questions- as if he’s trying Alex on for size, to see if he’s worth it. Worth the trouble. 

The weeks turn into months, and Alex begins to lose hope. That’s until one night at around nine, he gets a text.

_ Miles Kane _

_ Have you eaten?  _

Alex is standing in the kitchen as he receives it- literally about to retrieve a cheap ready meal from the fridge because he can’t be arsed cooking. He replies, confused, thinking maybe it was a mistake.

_ No? _

_ Drinks at mine? Takeaway? _

Alex frowns, thinking this is definitely a wrong number. He struggles to convey this over text politely, so just calls him up. 

“Hello?”

“Hiya. It’s me.”

“I know it is,” Miles says, and Alex can hear his smirk down the line, and he involuntarily beams. 

“Um,” he coughs, composing himself. “I err, just, did you text me?” 

“Yes, I did, unless someone else replied. What’ll it be, Mr Turner?” His voice flows, and Alex can hear the affectionate sarcasm through the phone, and rolls his eyes.

“I erm, just weren’t expecting it is all. I’ll be over. Just text me the address.” He smiles.

“Alright love. Be speedy,” he teases, and they say their goodbyes. 

The room fills again with silence. Alex smiles, mostly at the ‘love,’ and abandons the carbonara in his hand to get changed. He finds himself fumbling for something nice to wear, stressing his head off, but eventually settles on jeans and a white button up. 

The taxi ride there, he tries to suss Miles’ motives. Is he lonely and wants to fuck? Most likely, he figures, either that or he’s making some strange innocent genuine attempt of friendship after months of nothing. He works himself up over what he’ll be faced with once he walks through the door, and the reality is nothing out of the ordinary- just same old Miles who’s cleaned himself up a bit with a shave and a new cologne, hair as tidy as always. The only difference is the black skinny jeans and the slick button up with orange vertical stripes and the soft music in the background. Alex suddenly feels out of place.

“Hey,” beams Miles.

“Hiya…” he smiles. “I should’ve brought wine,” he suddenly admits. 

“Ah, no need for that one…” Miles trails off. “Come in!” He says, and Alex is met with the table that’s set up with a bottle of red wine and the smell of Chinese food. 

“Mm…” Alex stares wide eyed, starving. “Smells good,”

“Uh-huh,” Miles gestures for him to take a seat, which he does.

“Can I ask what the occasion is?” Alex questions.

“Yeah- I uh, well I’ve been stupid, haven’t I?” He begins, struck with an awkwardness unfamiliar to Alex. “I promised y’ a drink and well, I didn’t keep me promise. So here we are. Let me make it up to ya,” he smirks and Alex nods, smiling back as Miles does the honours with the wine. Alex wonders if he’s on a date, and wants to ask, but figures he’ll soon find out, so keeps his mouth shut. “If anyone asks, we had water and salad,” Miles jokes, and it elicits a sweet laugh from Alex. 

“God, yeh. My coach’d kill me if he knew.” He says, and thus begins the endless conversations that night brings. The sit there after dinner for hours just talking about anything from music to if God is real. Alex figures he’s never laughed so hard in his life and blames the wine (now on the second bottle), although Miles has everything to do with it. They eventually manoeuvre to the sofa and stick on a film (which is when Miles confesses his undying love for wrestling), although they barely watch it. Miles much prefers their newfound closeness- how their shoulders and knees touch, how they’re cracking up over anything and everything. 

“I think you should play me a song,” Miles puts forward.

“Me?” Alex asks.

“No, the man on the moon. Of course you.” He pulls Alex closer and he blushes. 

“I don’t know…” 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’ll get me guitar.” He gets up and returns with it in record time, and Alex admires it as Miles turns the TV off.

“This one’s a beauty,” Alex says, feeling its curves and shine. 

“I know. I’m ashamed at the price, so don’t ask.” He smirks, wine glass in hand. “Go on then. Serenade me, babe,” he jokes. Alex thinks of what to play, and settles on treating him to an original.

“Alreyt, but no laughing.” Alex begins. He plucks at the strings, and Miles tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a moment to appreciate it. When he begins to sing, Miles is taken aback, almost not expecting it. He turns his head and stares at Alex, as if he’s just shared with him the most vulnerable part of himself- which arguably he has. Miles thinks it’s like looking and hearing a new person entirely, and the softness of Alex’s almost childlike voice soothes him. He can't rip his eyes away for a second, and brings himself to put down his glass and sit up properly. When Alex reaches his chorus, Miles has gone from stupidly tipsy to stupidly in love, infatuated, all at once. By the end, there’s a long silence, and Miles is still staring with now sort of a questioning look of deep appreciation.

“So?” Alex whispers eventually. 

“That was beautiful,” he whispers back. Alex only smiles and looks down, but before he can look back up Miles is pressing his lips against his own in a short but heated kiss, and Alex’s heart misses a beat. He pulls back with the same look on his face. “Sorry. I couldn’t help meself,” he trails off, as if he’s disappointed in himself. 

“Wha- no,” Alex takes the guitar off and places it on the ground, before grabbing Miles’ hand. Miles just stares at him, falling further into his eyes. He brings his free hand to cup his face and push his hair back.

“You’re amazin, Al.” He admits, to which Alex smiles fondly. 

“Then why don’t ya kiss me again,” Alex proposes, something he’d never say sober, he figures. Miles thinks for a moment before leaning in, and this time it’s different- passionate. They move in sync, teasing each other with the wine on their tongues until they can’t breathe. 

“Fuck,” Miles breathes, pressing their foreheads together. Alex hums, and Miles is quick to stand up and offer Alex his hand.

“Where are we going?” Alex puts it naively. 

“Would you care to join me in bed?” Miles asks, and it sets Alex off into hysterics who then demands that Miles carries him there. 

And so he does- the guitar, film, wine and dishes abandoned, the lights still on, Miles making his best attempts not to fall over as he blindly kisses him. He carries him into darkness- or else within the light. 


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWWWWW I’m so sorry this always takes ages and does not live up to expectations, lmao. I promise there’s real drama coming! Thank you for your patience :)

_It seemed that after a while of Alex’s back pinned smoothly to the bed, Miles kissing him senselessly, the movement of their lips became weaker, less passionate, simultaneously. Miles pulled away first, and they stared at each other for a moment. Although Alex, despite feeling the same, was the one to speak first._

_“You okay,” he murmured, stroking Miles’ cheek, just below a whisper._

_“I- I don’t think I- wanna,”_

_“Shh, it’s okay. Me neither,” Alex admitted, smiling affectionately._

_“Really?” Miles whispered._

_“Really,” Alex nodded. “Now get off me, you.” He grinned, and Miles complied by rolling over. After a moment’s silence, Miles spoke again:_

_“I’m sorry love. ‘Am a bit nervous, to be honest,”_

_“What for?”_

_“This. Us. I like you, I really do. ‘An it’s so stupid… but ‘am scared,” Alex thought about asking him why, but he already knew the answer, so retreated to silence for a moment, before a barely audible whisper._

_“Me too,”_

Luckily, the press suspected nothing. Alex wasn’t so sure he could say the same about his teammates, who had certainly noticed that the dynamic was different, but as long as the press didn’t know, nobody could be put to shame.

Much to his relief, it was commonplace in football for the guys to be comfortable with each other- jumping on each other when goals were scored, arms around waists, cheeky slaps to the ass when you come off the pitch. Alex feels a particular heat rush through him when Miles does it- it was only yesterday that the taller man had lifted Alex up into the air and consequently had Alex’s legs around his waist in celebration, for all the world to see. But there were never any questions, and consequently no answers.

_“You’ll have to stop that,” Alex grinned, voice low as he pulled on a shirt in the empty changing room._

_“Stop wha?” Miles grinned eagerly back._

_“Liftin’ me up and shit. Turns me on,”_

_“Oh yeah?” Miles’ eyebrows raised, and he made his way up closer to Alex, who felt hotter by the second._

_“Stop it, Mi. Anyone could walk in,” he whispered when Miles pressed his tongue to his neck._

_“That’s never bothered you before…” he pulled away, smirk still in tact. He was met with a sigh. “My place? Bathroom?”_

_“I don’t think I can wait to get back to yours…” Alex stared up at Miles, eyes dark and wide._

_“Naughty.” Miles beamed. “I’ll meet you in there,”_

When he joined the club, the last treatment he thought he’d be getting was blowjobs in the bathroom, and yet there Miles was, making him feel amazing. He almost told him he loved him afterwards, which wasn’t a mistaken thought, either. 

Alex sighs, reflecting on the memory. He sits for a while near the window ledge, watching busy central Liverpool go by below him. Mothers carrying babies, businessmen in suits. He’s just watching a man rush into a building when he sees it- two teenage girls holding hands. One has dark, luscious wavy hair and tan skin, and the other has blonde hair with a daisy-patterned dress. They laugh, they’re wearing backpacks. _Are you going to the library, to study?_ Alex thinks. _Most likely. What are you laughing at? Are you in love? Do your parents know? What do they think?_ He questions, and the questions fade when they walk out of his line of sight. 

Miles. He wants so badly to be his only- not that he was seeing anyone, but he couldn’t bear the thought of a girl coming along and making Miles’ life so much better. The months of silence to begin with had been torture enough, and there were so many questions that buzzed in Alex’s brain, mainly about his parents, the press, and his love interest. 

_“Don’t be ridiculous Penny, the boy plays football. Of course he’s not gay. He’ll have plenty of girls throwing themselves at him when he’s earning that much money. Just wait,”_

_“Well- I just think you should entertain the fact that he might be, I mean have you seen,”_

_“No. Stop it. Stop thinking about it, please,”_

Alex dialled the phone without thinking. 

“Darling!” His mother exclaimed. “What a nice surprise! How are you?” She was eager, Alex figured it had been too long. 

“Am erm, I’m good mum,” he began, staring outside still. “Is dad wif you?” 

“Yes love, do you want him?”

“No I, I want you to put me on speaker,” 

“Is everything okay Al?” She asks, sensing his dull tone.

“Mmhm,” he tries to sound reassuring, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Okay, you’re on,” she says, and Alex’s dad chimes in to greet his son cheerily through sound waves. Alex all of a sudden feels sad, as if his parents will never speak to him again. He knows it has to be done, and that he can’t escape it. When his dad asks to what do they owe his pleasure, he begins.

“Well I suppose I should’ve come in person to you guys for this, but ‘av got news.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “An there’s no- there’s no pretty way of sayin’ it, but- I’m gay. And I always have been, an, I hope you don’t see me any differentleh.” Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat, and tears prick behind his eyes. 

*

_Are you home?_

_Yeah X_

_Feelin like shit_

_Why love? Come over X_

That was all it took; he didn’t reply after that. It was 6pm when he was faced with Miles’ door, the sun just beginning to set. After spending the entire day moping about, feeling sorry for himself, he felt as if all the energy had drained from his body and was being poured through Miles’ peephole in a death-ridden, blank and expressionless glare. When he lifted his hand to knock, he sighed. 

“Why the long face?” Miles greeted him.

“Am fuckin’ exhausted,” he confessed, letting himself in. Miles chuckled as he shut the door and watched Alex take his leather jacket off. It had become a normality, how casual they were with each other. Alex much preferred to be at Miles’ apartment, it being more modern and spacious. Many nights they had spent in his room, up to no good, or in the kitchen, cooking badly and drinking wine not in line with club regulations. It really was a wonder how they could keep up 90 minutes worth of play sometimes, Miles had joked once.

“Gym?” He assumed, knowing the perils. 

“No,” he sighed. “I told my parents,” he confesses, and Miles’ eyes widen. 

“Shit. How was it?” 

“Awkward,” Alex sighs. “Could’ve gone better,”

“C’mere, you.” Miles embraces him. “Sit down. Tell me everythin,’” he leads them to the sofa. 

“There’s not much to tell really. Mum was good, dad quite passive but nuffink bad. I just don’t know what came over me. I just had to,” he explains, and Miles nods along. 

“Do they know about me?” Miles puts a hand on Alex’s knee to comfort his clearly distressed mood. Alex shakes his head for no, feeling anxious for little reason, as if his insides are all clumped together.

“I probably should’ve done. That’s why I called,” his voice is quiet now, and emotional. Miles, evidently concerned, pulls him closer so that his head can rest on his chest. 

“What d’ya mean, love?” He asks.

“I wanna be yours, Mi.” He pauses, breathing deeply. His arm is over Miles’ waist, his thumb caressing the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t pretend no more,” Miles nods and tilts Alex’s chin so that he can look at him properly. There is a long pause, and Alex begins to think it’s a mistake when Miles just looks into his eyes for what seems like an age without talking. The man bites his lip, and then his eyes wonder, deep in thought. 

“Okay,” is all he says, with a small smile.

“Okay?” Alex presses, worried. Miles nods.

“Let’s do it,” his smile widens then, along with Alex’s. “C’mere,” he gestures for Alex to sit on his lap, which he does. “Alexander, David Turner, will you be my boyfriend?” He mocks a posh accent dramatically, which cracks Alex up. 

“Absolutely,” Alex grins, then kisses him sweetly. 

“I do suppose you’ll want to be here more often then, in which case I may have to tidy up…” Miles keeps up the charade, scowling at the messy living room. Alex cackles, and they eventually go out to dinner to celebrate- not without bodyguards, of course.

_“Stop it, Miles, get off me!” Alex giggles as Miles makes his best attempt to tickle him as they run down the street._

_“Run, Alex! Run! You have to beat the final boss, the paps!” He exclaims, voice high, and Alex is almost bent over double with laughter and stitch by the time they turn the corner at the end of the long road. “You’ll have to do better than that, Al. You’ll be sent away on loan if you keep that up,”_

_“Oh, stop it.” He pants, fingers digging into his waist, leaning against a brick wall. It’s dark out, but the moon shines full on them. “I’ve just eaten,” he excuses._

_“Hmm…” Miles, who is also panting, makes his way over to him to kiss him._

_“Stop it… they’ll be in cars already…” Alex hums in between kisses, referencing to the crowd that had circulated with cameras outside of the restaurant. Someone must’ve seen them and sounded the alarm, and despite their best efforts and much to their security’s dismay, Miles had dragged Alex away to peg it mainly as a laugh when he saw that the taxi was late. “Jesus,” he breathes, pushing Miles away. He examines the man, who is dressed up exquisitely in a black suit and pattern shirt. Alex is dressed equally nice, but nowhere near as nice as Miles, he thinks. At that moment, he knows he loves the man, but can’t bring himself to tell him- it’s too soon, and he doesn’t want to burden him. Asking him to be his was cheeky enough._

_Miles starts laughing. “C’mere, y’ dickhead,” he puts his arm around him affectionately and messes his hair up. “I love ya,” he confesses, cupping Alex’s face. It shocks Alex, who immediately reciprocates._

_“I love you too,” he beams, and once they get their breath back they walk home in the dead of night._

  
  
  
  



	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s World Cup season, and Alex finds himself helpless at home with a torn muscle in a vital situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit’s about to hit the fan ya’ll! Stay tuned! I hope you enjoy, and again sorry about the wait. Hopefully I’ll be able to write more now with the current situation... I hope you’re all staying safe, healthy and at home. Sending love!

_The World Cup Final Stages_

_Match day 8/16, England vs Croatia_

_Zagreb, Croatia, 9:41pm_

Alex and Miles were significantly out of breath and elated. They walked arm in arm off of the pitch, never prouder of their achievements. Interviews came next, the rigmarole being nothing new. After the normal ‘how do you think the night went,’ and so on, the questions, as usual, got less intense, and less football related. Alex, admittedly, was not paying attention, and on the verge of seeing stars from the bright lights and the lightheadedness of coming down from the stamina.

“And Miles, would you say it’s an unlikely friendship?”

“Nah, not really. He’s just a good guy. I vibe with him, we like the same things. Don’t we Ally?” Miles proceeded to gather Alex into a headlock and ruffle up his long strands as they stood in the interview room, in front of a wall plastered with their sponsors. The poor woman, much to her dismay, stood with a sort of estranged look on her face. Alex simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“And you, Alex?” 

“I- no, I- I don’t fink so. He makes me laugh,” he got out, staring at Miles with chocolate heart eyes. Miles cackled and shoved Alex’s face away with his hand. 

It was fair to say they’d taken a shine to the press, no matter how strange Alex felt being newly shoved into the limelight, he knew he could always rely on Miles to say the right things. You’re like my picket fence, he had told him once. 

It had begun with the photos from the restaurant, and subsequently photos from other trips they’d taken together in town. Miles could be so masculine, Alex figured, so no one would suspect a thing. Alex’s performance during game time had also been much better since he’d come out to his parents, his mind being able to focus more in training. He’d been rising so much to the centre of attention without even realising it- goal after goal was something commentators hadn’t failed to notice. 

_Alex, has Miles been teaching you things?_

_Alex, how has your performance earnt you a place in the World Cup?_

_Alex, what are you doing differently?_

“Ay, are you comin’ for a ciggie? It’s a long drive to the airport,” Miles offers once they’re both dressed and ready to leave with their bags. 

“What? Oh, yeah,” Alex is snapped out of his trance. 

“Everything alright, love?” The taller man asks, bringing his hand to grip Alex’s arm gently. 

“Uh-huh. Just daydreamin,’” 

“Well will you daydream about where we can smoke without getting told off?” Miles grins, hunching his gym bag over his shoulder so it doesn’t slide off. 

“Entrance?”

“Good shout,” Miles replies, and with that he’s off, fumbling for his cigarettes down the long corridor filled with memorabilia. 

“We really shouldn’t be smoking, Mi,” Alex jogs to catch up with him.

“I know. Can’t help it. Stupid health rules,” the man complains, blatantly feeling the symptoms of withdrawal. Once they’re outside, it’s pitch black and the rain is teasing. Alex can only make out the outlines of both coaches, one for them and one for the Croatian team. “Oh, Jesus,” Miles lets out in frustration.

“Over there.” Alex points out to an orange streetlight-lit area that’s sheltered by a part of the stadium. “Come on,” 

They hurry over and Miles puts his bag down to light both of their poisons, inhaling the smoke like it’s the last thing he’ll taste. 

“Jeez,” he exhales, relief engulfing him. “Is there a better feelin?” He smirks, smoke filling the air. 

“I can fink of one,” Alex teases, relieving his shoulder of his bag. 

“Filthy mind, you have,” Miles smirks, gesturing with his fingers that he wants to hold Alex. The man complies, resting his head on Miles’ chest, filled suddenly with the smell of his aftershave. He toys with the cigarette in between his fingers and shuts his eyes for a moment. Miles hums in content, resting his chin on Alex’s head and his fingers curling around Alex’s shoulder so that he can keep the man close in place against him. “You did great today, love,” 

“Fanks,” Alex smiles, eyes still closed. His fingers begin to numb in the cold, but he ignores the feeling. Eventually, he looks up to Miles to tell him that he loves him for what feels like the millionth time that week alone. 

“I love you too, doll,” Miles reciprocates. Before Alex feels like he’s about to explode, he presses his lips to Miles’ in a heated kiss. With his free hand Miles cups Alex cheek, and Alex feels himself immediately sink into it, and it becomes slow and passionate. “Are you comin’ back to mine,” Miles smirks, their lips millimeters apart and his eyes half closed. 

“Mm-hm,” Alex nods slightly as Miles brushes his thumb against Alex’s cheek. 

“Okay then,” he pulls away to smoke the remains of the cigarette before stamping it out. “Let’s join the others,” he puts his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and they run back inside where it’s warm. 

***

_“Because, you know what it’s like, don’t you? Fag this an’ fag that. We wouldn’t be safe anywhere,”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Trust me, Alex. I know this field better than you do. You don’t know the people. Plus, everyone thinks ‘am straight as a ruler,”_

_“What does that matter?”_

_“It just does, love, okay? Can ye let it go?”_

_“So that’s it, then? You’re never gonna hold ma hand in public? Never gonna be happy? Joost always gonna live in fear?”_

_“Just shut up, Alex. Just shut up,”_

***

_The World Cup Final Stages_

_Match Day 11/16, Croatia vs England_

_London, England, 6:09pm_

“Well, I’ll be watching you,”

“I know you will, doll. It’s not the same though,”

“Are you nervous?”

“Only ‘cause you won’t be there,”

“Oh Miles for fuck sake I’ve pulled a muscle not been killed in action. Text me when you’re finished, and call me at the Hotel, okay? You’ll be fine,”

“Alright,” the man huffs, evidently upset. “I’ll talk to you later,”

“Go get ‘em love, you’ll be fine,” Alex reiterates. “Speak soon,”

With that, Alex rests his sore leg on the coffee table and watches the pre-match discussions take place, a non-alcoholic drink in hand. Smartly dressed people sit around a large table in the newsroom chatting statistics and lineups. He hears his own name mentioned at one point, and chuckles at the speculations over how well the team will do without a striker, and so on. _They really do like to make a meal of this game,_ Alex thinks, _where there’s money there’s a way._ Granted, it’s an important game that sets England up for the semi-finals. In Alex’s head, he knows it’s a game of luck, like all games are. No amount of betting or talking will alter the result at the end. 

He smiles when he sees his team walk on and sing the anthem, and he beams when the camera pans to Miles who sings with such a serious face, standing next to an adoring young boy who’s face much matches Alex’s. Whenever they did make you walk about with children, clasping their tiny hands as they ogle the big world watching them, Alex always made sure to talk to them, get them hyped up and excited. Most of the guys just ignored them. 

Soon when the theatrics are over it’s kick off time, and the game drags on for a good while with no results. Both teams are on their A-game and no one wants to back down. No matter how impressive and quick Miles’ moves are, he’s no match for the aggressive play that’s happening, and soon the first whistle blows for half time. Everyone looks exhausted, and Alex makes sure to text Miles before getting another drink.

_Come on babe! Get out there! You can do it! Do it for me! Show ‘em what you’re made of! Xxx_

He returns limping back to the sofa to no reply. No doubt Miles is listening to a pep talk right now, sipping on some energy drink. When they return to the pitch, Miles’ seriousness does not falter. _Lighten up a bit,_ Alex thinks. 

About twenty minutes in Miles has managed to slip past someone and runs as fast as his legs can carry him towards the goal. Alex finds himself involuntarily shouting at his TV, sitting now on the edge of his seat.

_And here’s Kane, slipping past the defence and yes! The set of lungs on the man! The keeper’s darting quite far out of his box there don’t you th- OH! That’s quite a nasty kick to the head there Dave, that’s got to hurt…_

“No!” Alex yells at the TV, bringing his hand down to hit the sofa. “What the fuck!” Alex frustrates at the missed opportunity and the stupidity of the keeper. 

_Yes that is quite a nasty kick Steven… and yes a well-deserved red card don’t you think… and on come the medics now. As you can see that’s… oh! Yes quite right take the cameras away… it doesn’t quite look as if he’s moving there Ste… let’s see the replay…_

“What?” Alex mumbles to himself, confused and now anxious. What had he missed? The bastard had kicked him, yes, but why wasn’t Miles- he had barely seen a second of Miles’ bloodied face before the cameras cut off- 

_Yes this isn’t a good situation at all Dave… I wonder who they’ll replace him with… the match is… at a standstill at the London Wembley here folks… that’s seven minutes now added time… look at all those medics Dave…_

In the seven minutes that had passed the only images on the screen were worried-sick fans, an empty field apart from an orange cluster that surrounded Miles’ body. Alex sat on the verge of both tears and throwing up at the thought of Miles’ lifeless form and wondered why the hell he wasn’t in an ambulance yet. He decided to phone up one of his teammates that was being used as a substitute. 

“Hi, what the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t know mate. They’re saying he’s unresponsive… oh, the paramedics are here now… what was that, mate? They’re going to what? Fucking airlift him?”

Alex really did want to be sick now. 

“Okay mate I’ll call you back when there’s more details, I can’t even hear meself think,” 

“Okay, okay, please do,” Alex hung up and watched his boyfriend be carted off of the pitch on a stretcher. The cameras seemed very reluctant to show his face or even body. 

_What a strange situation to be in… England’s future in the World Cup isn’t looking too bright at the moment, I mean what was he thinking? Surely he’ll be suspended, don’t you think?_

_Don’t you think?_

_Don’t you think?_

_Don’t you think?_

As soon as the game returned to normal, Alex turned off the TV and stared into space. There was nothing he could do, he couldn’t even be there for him. Even if he was there, he couldn’t kiss him better. Couldn’t hold his hand. He just stared and stared, stared at the phone and waited for it to ring as he sat in the dark. Eventually, it did-

“Trent,”

“Okay so, they’re gonna cart him off to St Thomas’ and then airlift him to The Royal in Liverpool. Apparently they’ve got like a specialist brain department or somethin...”

“Have you seen him?” Alex asked as with a matter of urgency in his voice.

“Not gonna lie, mate, he doesn’t look good…” 

“What do you mean?!”

“Alright, don’t get snappy! The left half of his face ‘as been like torn where the studs… you know… he’s kicked him quite hard…” 

“Is he still out?”

“Yeah mate, must’ve knocked him out cold. It’d knock me out ‘an all,”

“Okay, jeez. Talk later,”

“See ya bud,”

_Hello, you’ve reached The Royal Liverpool University Hospital. Unfortunately the front desk is very busy at the moment. Please leave your request after the tone, and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible._


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here... the finale (5+6). I swear this mf is the worst thing i've ever written, but ya'll seem to like it, so... I hope you enjoy!

Alex woke up at 6:30 and dragged a hand through his hair. Visiting hours began at 8, as it said on the website- the front desk had proved useless. The silence in the room was overwhelmingly enveloping him, Miles’ absent breathing so strongly felt.

Exhausted and dehydrated from back and forth calls, tears and frustration until what was eventually 3AM, he sat on the edge of the bed to it still being dark out. He stared out of the window, and the tears were quickly brought on. It was mainly a result of feeling ill with worry, not knowing the answers to any questions. 

The tears were short lived, however. He was in a rush to get to the hospital at eight on the dot. In the midst of running around, rushing breakfast and tripping over Miles’ and his own clothes and belongings scattered on the floor, his mobile rang. 

“Hello?” he almost demanded, praying it was his manager, shrugging his jacket on at the same time.

“Hi,” said a voice in an accent unfamiliar to Alex.

“Hi, who is this? I’m in a rush if I’m honest wif yeh,” 

“My English is no good. Check your text messages,” he said, and then the voice hung up. 

“What?” Alex muttered to himself, realising that, when he looked at the screen for the first time in the day, he had 48 miscalls from this unknown number, six texts, 12 miscalls from his mum and 4 from his manager. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, opening the unknown person’s messages. 

There, he found two photos of him and Miles kissing under a lamppost somewhere, and two accompanying threats:

YOU PRESS CHARGES 

I POST ONLINE 

YOU GET ME BANNED 

I POST ONLINE

“What the _fuck,_ ” he almost exclaimed, feeling all of a sudden very cold. He didn’t have much time to think about it, because the car was honking outside and the clock was nearing eight. 

For most of the ride Alex stared at the photos. One was very clearly him and Miles making out at the stadium in Croatia, with no denying it. The other was Alex staring into the darkness, his head on Miles’ shoulder, cigarette in hand. He almost didn’t recognise himself, with Miles’ hand in his hair. He cursed himself for being so stupid, as he checked the texts from his manager. 

JK: Miles okay. Very very nearly fatal but okay. He’s going to be out of play for a few months for sure.

At that, he breathed the biggest sigh of relief he ever had, bringing his hands to his forehead. 

JK: Police and paps will be at hospital. Very serious. Just act cool. 

_Perfect timing,_ he thought as they pulled up to The Royal, just as he was verging on tears of joy that Miles was in fact okay after all. This was the last thing he wanted cameras to see, and sure enough there they were ready and waiting. He gave himself a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes before exiting the car with a guard. He made it up the stairs, but not without questions ringing in his ears.

_Alex, how is Miles? Are your other teammates visiting today? Are you worried? Is he okay? Will he be able to play again?_

“Miles is fine,” is all he mumbled, entering the building with the word anxiety on repeat in his mind. 

*

Alex was frowning at the sight of Miles, whose head was heavily bandaged. Several wires were monitoring him, and Alex didn’t like the room one tiny bit. Normally he wasn’t phased by hospitals, but the little white space was unusually upsetting him. Outside the window, there was a small dead bird, yellow and blue feathers, and his face soured at the sight. The thing was tiny. He made a mental note to tell the nurse when she returned. All the surroundings and the stress made him feel on edge, as if he were a water balloon, and Miles was holding the pin to his very surface. 

“Hi,” he mumbled, legs crossed tightly on an uncomfortable chair.

“H- ow!” Miles exclaimed as he moved his head up to look at Alex. Alex squinted at the noise. “Jesus Christ!” 

“Calm down,” Alex whispered.

“Calm down?!” Miles exasperated. “That bast- did we lose?!” The younger man had been ‘in and out of it’ all morning and Alex had convinced the nurse to tell the police to wait a while. 

“I- I don’t know, actually…” he pondered, realising that once he’d turned the TV off he’d forgotten about the entire match.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Miles pressed, which just pushed Alex over the edge.

“Miles! I’ve been up all fuckin’ night cryin my eyes out ‘cause I thought you were fuckin dead, and this is how you repay me? Grow up!” Alex breathed, and Miles stopped then, staring in almost disbelief. 

“You thought I was dead?” The man whispered after a moment.

“Yes! For fuck sake! How was I meant to know? I’m not exactly your emergency contact,” he spoke with venom, crossing his arms, somehow angry at Miles now.

“Oh, don’t bring us into this,” 

“Look- the police want to press charges because it was an attack,”

“Well I should think so an’ all! I want a fuckin’ ban for life!” 

“MILES- just read the fuckin’ text message I got this mornin,” 

Miles gripped the phone quickly and squinted to see it, but once he read it, his expression was quick to change.

“Fuck,”

“Yeah,”

He spent ages just staring at it, taking it in. It was as if it solidified them forever, and made Miles realise what he’d committed to. 

“I guess i’ll leave it then,” he spoke quietly.

“You’re sure?” Alex asked, to which Miles only nodded slowly and passed Alex the phone. He sighed, and they remained in comfortable silence until a nurse had decided that time was up. “I’ll see you later then,” Alex mumbled, to which Miles only hummed and avoided his eyes.

*

His head was spinning, and not because of the drugs. The phone had been ringing all goddamn morning, and Alex refused to unplug the wretched thing in case the number was the doctor’s. Miles was laying in bed, tired, grumpy and wanting to be outside where the sun was shining. 

Throughout all of Alex’s fussing over him and Miles’ insisting that he wasn’t a baby that needed looking after, they hadn’t spoken about the incident. They’d just been snappy and impatient with one another instead, almost pressing at it, waiting for it to burst. 

The phone rang again, and Miles was starting to lose his mind with the piercing ring. “Alex, if y’ don’t pick that damn phone up ‘am gonna come in and do it meself!” He shouted to the living room. He heard Alex grumble something unintelligible and move to pick it up. They’d been avoiding it all day, as they knew the number was just the press. For some reason, they’d been unusually incessant today. He listened closely to Alex, who wasn’t doing him any favours by talking so quietly.

“What? No… no I… no… could you stop calling, please? Fanks,” 

It was a moment that felt like an age before Alex appeared at the door, small and scared. 

“What?” Miles pried. 

“They’ve got the photos,” he barely whispered, finally looking at Miles in the eyes. 

“What,” Miles muttered, a stare blacker than coal. 

“The press,” 

“How,”

“I don’t know, Miles. It’s all over the internet,”

“Jesus Christ,” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. 

“Look, it can’t be tha’ bad,” Alex tried to sympathise as he moved towards the bed, but he was cut off.

“Stop- Al, just stop tryna cheer me up please,” he spoke, and a long silence passed. “I didn’t want me parents to find out like this,” he whispered, truly on the verge of a breakdown. 

“What can I do?” Alex whispered after a while, but it was more a statement than a question. Miles stared at him, as if deciding how to react.

“Just come here,” he motioned, coming to the conclusion that nothing could be done, and that aggression didn’t solve anything, unless he wanted Alex gone forever.

Alex crawled onto the bed and laid his head on Miles’ chest. Miles’ long fingers danced and thread through Alex’s hair until he couldn’t stomach it anymore.

*

_TURNER CONTINUALLY REFUSES TO CONFIRM OR DENY ROMANCE WITH MILES KANE_

_A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN? WHY TURNER AND KANE AFFAIR IS MUCH NEEDED FOR THE FOOTBALL INDUSTRY_

_CROATIAN CULPRIT FACES NO CHARGES- BUT HOW LONG WILL HIS BAN LAST?_

Alex had barely had a chance to breathe amongst it all, and the combination of caring/worrying for Miles and the consistent training was too much to handle some days. In the month that had passed, nothing seemed to be getting better. He was banned from taking press interviews (although, why would he want to anyway) and worse yet, the chants had started, and they were soul crushing. To have such a crucial part of who you are used against you in shame on what was a bad day, didn’t do him any favours. His manager and colleagues seemed to have no sympathy for him, their eyes filled with ‘I told you so’s’ and ignorance. It would seem as if things had reversed to the way they were before he’d met Miles. Except now, everyone knew his secret. He would just stand there in his kit, on the centre of the pitch, staring at the consequences of his mistakes, with the word ‘fag’ ringing in his ears. 

Sleeping next to Miles was becoming difficult, and the man was oblivious to it. He was sheltered from it all, at home in a little bubble where the damage was so much less. It had been hard on him, sure, but he hadn’t had the constant abuse that Alex faced daily. He’d begun to flinch whenever Miles would touch him, ashamed and disgusted with himself. But Miles wouldn’t utter a word, and when he would, they’d only argue pointlessly.

It was deep into the night when he was sitting on the window ledge, admiring how the moon cast down and lit up the whole street. It wasn’t very pleasant, trying to keep quiet whilst Miles was sound asleep. Or at least, so he thought. 

“Al?” The voice spoke softly. Alex snapped his head quick around to meet the sound, but was quick to dry his eyes with his sleeve, hands shaking. “What’s wrong?” 

Alex laughed in what was the epitome of oxymoron, and shook his head. “Hey, what’s going on?” The taller man got out of bed to greet him by the window.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Alex looked straight up at him, eyes brown, wide and glistening. 

In one look, Miles saw all the pain he’d put him through. The hiding, the shame, being outed, and now being punished for a crime he didn’t commit. In one look, he saw the face of a man who was going to leave him if he didn’t do anything about it. 

“Right then,” he responded, then grinned. “I suppose I'd better get to work.” 


	6. Six

The stadium seemed fuller than ever, and the lights blared on thousands of tiny ant people in reds and blacks and whites in the crowd. He watched excited children on parents’ shoulders, and huge shirtless men with logos painted on their chests. He smiled. The lineup was being read out.

_Now, Sam, of course Miles Kane returns tonight in a striking position as we can see there, do you think that’ll change the dynamic here in the stadium tonight?_

_Oh absolutely Craig…_

Miles seemed way ahead in front of him when they walked out onto the pitch, but he had winked at him playfully before they went on. _Play it cool, now, Alex. Nice and professional, yeah?_ He was holding the hand of a small boy in a matching outfit to Alex’s, and they all kept straight faces and serious posture as the camera panned across the squad in a line on the centre of the pitch. Alex could hear his own heartbeat pound in his ears, and he looked to Miles, who was breaking formation and walking over to take the microphone from the rather surprised referee. Things seemed in slow motion, and Alex couldn’t help but grin.

“Excuse me, ladies and gents, but I have a little somethin’ somethin’ to say before we begin,” 

_Oh, what’s this? It seems as if we’ve been interrupted for people listening at home, number 10 has taken the mic…_

Alex was almost laughing now. “You see this man, over here?” Miles marched up to Alex and threw his arm around him, and Alex couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor child who was standing bewildered next to them as he giggled. “Well, this is my boyfriend Alex. I shouldn’t have to interrupt your precious game time to tell you this, but it seems apparent that I have to, because you won’t leave him alone. You see, ladies and gents, being in a same sex relationship doesn’t make a man any less of a man, any less of a footballer, or any less professional. And from today, if we hear any derogatory chants, we will boycott the game. Do I make meself clear?” 

Alex beamed at Miles the entire time, laughing and shaking his head. The silence that followed Miles’ question was deafening, bar the occasional shout and the booing. Miles took it in his stride, and didn’t flinch once at the negativity. 

“Perfect! Crystal!” He exclaimed with femininity and sarcasm, before returning the mic to a star struck ref, who then began the game as normal. Alex shook his head and laughed for the camera that was pointing in his direction before getting into position. They won the game that night, without any homophobia, but Alex felt that he’d won much more than that. As he admired a happier, freer Miles than he’d experienced before, he thought maybe, just maybe, they could get through this together. 

The newspapers loved it of course, and Miles was buzzing off of the attention again, despite the harsh words the club had had with him about professionalism. 

“And I said to him, what are you gonna do, fire me? How’s that gonna look?” He laughed, beaming, feet resting on the dining table. He was less argumentative, happier and charming all over again, and Alex felt blessed to witness Miles just being Miles. 

“Jeez, would ya stop ticklin’ me, Mi? I swear- get off!” Alex kicked and pushed Miles around on the bed, and they were tangling each other in white sheets as the sun went down. “Miles! Ow! No- it hurts!” He was struggling to breathe as the man had him pinned to the mattress, a cloud of cotton surrounding them, his fingers prodding him everywhere. 

“Maybe you should try and get on top of me…” Miles growled, licking up Alex’s neck, who was squirming now. Miles loosened his touch to which the older man was quick to wriggle out of his hold, swapping them entirely. 

“I’ve got ya now,” Alex beamed, pinning Miles’ hands above his head. 

“I’m scared,” he mocked, and Alex rolled his eyes, leaning into a deep kiss. 

“If you buck your hips up one more time…” Alex murmured, feeling hotter by the minute. 

“What? What’re y’ gonna do?” Miles teased. 

“I might just show you,” Alex grinned, kissing down Miles’ body until the sky went black.

*

_Present Day_

“How’s isolation treating you?”

“We’re good, thanks, we’re really good. I mean, obviously it’s hard an’ all stayin’ indoors but so far everyone’s okay. Alex’s got his books an’ i’ve got me guitar, so,”

“And the little ones?”

“Oh, they’re more than fine, aren’t you darlin? You gonna help me with football later?”

“Aw- she’s gorgeous!”

“I know, she’s my angel, aren’t ya? You wanna say hi to the news? I- oh, no, she’s not having it,” 

“Haha, I should let you go then Miles. It’s been nice chatting to you. Miles Kane, everybody.”

As soon as he hung up, a bird flew into the window. “Jesus fuck!” He jumped at the sound. “You didn’t hear that.” He turned to his daughter, not old enough to understand, and picked her up. Outside it was sunny, and the thing was still twitching. “Alex!” 

“What?!” He shouted from upstairs.

“Get down ‘ere!” 

“Why?!” 

“‘Cause there’s a dead bird in the garden!”

“Jesus Christ,” he could hear the man groan and march downstairs. “And what exactly do you want me to d- jesus, Mi, it’s still alive! Open the door!” Alex demanded, to which Miles complied and slid the sliding glass towards the wall. 

“Al, I wouldn’t touch it if I were y- too late,” he tried to warn. 

“Shut up, Mi,” he told him. “I’m gettin’ it some water,” he stood up carefully with the thing cupped in his hands, smiling slightly. 

“Alright Snow White, there’s no need for the attitude. Where’s Jules, anyway?”

“He was asleep, until you woke him up,” 

Miles rolled his eyes and left his daughter to play on the floor as he followed Alex into the kitchen. He had his hair tied back in a bun that was falling apart, and had his eyes focused on this little thing that had been subjected to the counter in the kitchen. 

“That’s not hygenic, Al- what if it’s got the virus?” he said, but got no reply. Alex was busy coaxing it with water and placing its wings back into place. 

“Follow me,” was all he said. He led Miles to the garden, and eventually to a wall to rest it on. He sat next to it, cooing and fussing over it. 

“C’mon, please please please please,” he chanted, as if it would help. Admittedly, it wasn’t looking good- there was no sign of movement. Miles knew anything he’d say would make it worse, so kept his mouth shut. 

Eventually, the thing twitched back to life, and Alex cheered and stood up. 

“Miles! Look, look!” Alex beamed, and Miles slid his arm around the shorter man’s waist.

“I can see, love,” Miles grinned ear to ear at his happiness. Alex hummed and leant his head on Miles’ shoulder, and they watched the thing hop about and sip at the water Alex had provided.

“There was this bird,” he began, “at the hospital when I went to see you that time when everything kicked off. It was dead outside your window. I kept dreamin’ about it for ages after that,” 

“Oh right?” Miles offered for him to continue.

“Hm. Seems like a lifetime ago, now,” he sighed, and the bird flew away. “I’d better go and check on them two,” he spoke after a moment, and wriggled out of Miles’ grip. The man looked like a total hippie in the clothes he was wearing, and it made Miles grin. “What?”

“Nothin. Kiss me,” Miles suggested, and Alex rolled his eyes but gave in. It was quick, but full of feeling. “I’ll stay out here, love.”

“Okay,” Alex smirked, and with that he was gone, leaving Miles thinking about a dead bird, and how he landed on this Earth with such a person and such a life.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)  
> Tumblr: @england-is-mine


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